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| − | Three o'clock<br />
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| − | The city fog descends upon<br />
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| − | The neighbourhood<br />
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| − | Looking from the balcony<br />
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| − | One cannot see down shrouded streets<br />
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| − | Past two blocks.
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| − | No stars above in the endless black<br />
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| − | The streetside trees stretch forth their boughs<br />
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| − | To grasp and claw at nothingness<br />
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| − | Nought to see except what lies below<br />
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| − | The concrete track<br />
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| − | There alone to see<br />
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| − | Its every asphalt groove and mound<br />
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| − | Thrown in stark relief<br />
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| − | By lamplight that discovers<br />
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| − | Neither the road ahead, nor the sky unbound<br />
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| − | But shutters both, and draws the gaze down.
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| − | Amidst the fog, one cannot glimpse<br />
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| − | The human faces of the neighbours<br />
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| − | The man at his piano, the girl immersed in books<br />
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| − | The child with its building bricks<br />
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| − | Assembling worlds, starfish hands curled in determined fists<br />
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| − | Isolate, disparate, forsaken, in schism<br />
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| − | Within the abysm of the mist.
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| − | Between the heat and cold there is the fog<br />
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| − | Human warmth spread increasing thin<br />
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| − | A host of embers scattered to the wind<br />
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| − | Losing heat without a core<br />
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| − | Where was the hearth, cold grey ashes<br />
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| − | Lifeless dust about the floor<br />
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| − | Separation, slow dispersion<br />
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| − | Of tiny points of light ever growing dim<br />
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| − | Approaching the ultimate inertion<br />
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| − | And weak against the encroaching chill of night to contend:<br />
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| − | Entropic end.
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| − | Only the concrete can one see<br />
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| − | Ten steps ahead perhaps, no more<br />
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| − | Heads bowed down to trace the immediate path<br />
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| − | In the aging walk paved by slow machines<br />
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| − | To count the cracks, avoid the crevices<br />
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| − | Never lift their sights to meet the solemn, lidless stare<br />
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| − | Of an everpresent cloud of witnesses.
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| − | If I came with songs and poems of old to clear the haze<br />
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| − | Would you hear the words I spoke to you?<br />
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| − | And should you feed thereon with faith and thanksgiving?<br />
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| − | No, my people, you should turn your face away<br />
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| − | For what are the words of the poets and prophets?<br />
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| − | Who can discern them? And who is willing?<br />
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| − | Bound in chains of darkness, we eke out feeble lives<br />
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| − | Tired roles we endlessly reprise<br />
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| − | Drinking, laughing, never seeing face to face<br />
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| − | Divided, we are swiftly conquered<br />
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| − | And the voice that crieth in the wilderness<br />
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| − | Is as utterly alone as all the rest.
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| − | But the Word of the Lord came to me in a roundabout way<br />
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| − | And as I stand upon the stage<br />
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| − | To call upon that ancient Muse<br />
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| − | I see your faces unconfused<br />
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| − | Behold the book which bound am I to impart<br />
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| − | The scroll inscribed upon a consecrated heart<br />
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| − | Comfort ye my people, saith your God<br />
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| − | For between the cold and heat there is the fog.
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| − | The everpresent cloud of smoke, the mist<br />
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| − | Which rises fragrant from the coals, thrice-blest<br />
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| − | Eclipsing faces 'midst the gentle but unwavering effluence of light<br />
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| − | Stand aright!<br />
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| − | Our souls are spread increasing thin<br />
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| − | A breath, a whisper upon the wind<br />
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| − | The Lord possessed me at the beginning of his work<br />
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| − | By the Self-same wrought the renewal of the earth<br />
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| − | Remember, O Man, that dust thou art<br />
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| − | A dying ember upon the hearth<br />
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| − | Separation, slow dispersion<br />
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| − | A flickering light grows ever dim<br />
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| − | Approaching the ultimate inertion<br />
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| − | And weak to stand as night encroaches on the world's overflowing brim:<br />
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| − | O Elohim, the end, the end<br />
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| − | Wisdom! Let us attend.
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| − | ***<br />
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| | ===Verse 1=== | | ===Verse 1=== |
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| Line 100: |
Line 12: |
| | Assembling worlds, his starfish hands<br /> | | Assembling worlds, his starfish hands<br /> |
| | Are curled in stout, determined fists | | Are curled in stout, determined fists |
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| | Isolate, disparate, forsaken, in schism<br /> | | Isolate, disparate, forsaken, in schism<br /> |
| | Within the abysm of the mist. | | Within the abysm of the mist. |
Verse 1
The phone declares it's three o'clock
The city fog descends upon the town
One can't see more than past two blocks
The stars are hid: the gaze is driven down
The neighbours' human faces all eclipsed
Amidst the fog, one cannot hope to glimpse
The girl immersed in books, the man
At his piano, the child with building bricks
Assembling worlds, his starfish hands
Are curled in stout, determined fists
Isolate, disparate, forsaken, in schism
Within the abysm of the mist.
Chorus 1
Between the heat and cold there is the fog
And human warmth is spread increasing thin
A host of embers scattered to the wind
They lose their heat without a constant core
Where was the hearth, cold grey ashes
Lifeless dust in heaps about the floor
Separation, slow dispersion
Of tiny points of light, growing ever dim
Approaching the ultimate inertion
And weak against the encroaching chill of night to contend:
Entropic end.
Verse 2
